Reverse Psychology
by sisterglitch
Summary: One-shot. Carlisle seems to lose not only his temper but his sense of justice as the boys push the limits of his patience. Jasper's POV. Discipline Fic.
1. Reverse Psychology

YO! This is Discipline Fiction.

Don't like it? Don't get it? Stop reading if you can – and if you can't, ask yourself why! If Stephenie Meyers doesn't like the things I've done to her characters, she can tell me. Hit the Back button. Choose a romance. You'll sleep better.

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Emmett was at it again. Tormenting Edward was absolutely his favorite sport. I gotta admit, Edward asks for it. But Emmett goes too far.

I know Emmett cares about us as his brothers, I just don't know why he can't show it like a normal, sane person. Sure, he tries to push my buttons too, but it rarely phases me anymore. I'm able to diffuse his unwanted attentions. What kind of officer would I ever have been without mental discipline? It takes a lot more than a little crude teasing and horseplay to get me riled up.

We were coming back from Seattle, the four of us, Carlisle, Emmett, Edward, and me. We three boys were crammed into the back seat of the minivan Carlisle had rented to carry all the interior design supplies Esme had ordered for the renovation of her bedroom. We'd removed the very back bench seat to make more cargo area, and it was crammed to the ceiling. The front passenger seat was full too, with the antique glass lamps, or some such shit, carefully padded and secured where Carlisle could watch over them.

That meant we three had to sit together. So not good. We were way too close for comfort or safety – meaning Emmett can never keep his damn hands to himself. He and Edward had kept the scuffling to a relatively quiet minimum for a good half hour, but when the urban landscape fizzled out and the scenery became monotonous to them - mile upon mile of spectacular Pacific Northwestern rain forest – the contest between them took on a restrained new ferocity. Starved for stimulation, they cannibalized each other for mental sustenance on the long drive back to Forks.

Emmett whispered something into Edward's ear. It was just one word, and even with my excellent hearing, I didn't quite catch it. I'm so successful at tuning them out sometimes, I actually don't hear things they say right in front of me.

"Shut up!" Edward hissed. "Mind your own fucking business, you pervert."

Carlisle half turned in his seat, and the van swerved alarmingly as his attention veered. "Language, Edward! Apologize!"

"To who?" Edward sneered, looking not at Carlisle but at his grinning brother. "To you or to the moron?"

Anger and frustration were coming off Carlisle like heat waves. Our father was at the limit of his patience with those two. It was one thing to hear them go at it at home where he could kick them out of the house into the yard if they insisted on goading each other – but this! Trapped in a twelve by six foot metal cage with a gorilla and a wildcat? Too much. He had already asked them twice to stop the bickering, so I knew the next thing out of his mouth would NOT be a request.

Emmett sat, seemingly poised and placid, smirking after Edward's rebuff from Dad. He laid his left hand down casually on Edward's right leg, smiling nonchalantly, looking forward as if the scenery fascinated him. It seemed an inconsequential gesture, but after suffering an hour of Emmett's nonsense, it tipped Edward over the edge. The sudden fury that welled up in Edward flooded the car. I felt a choking sensation in my throat, followed by the surety - he was about to 'go off.' _Man, that boy has a wicked temper! Why can't he just lighten up and let it go?_

He shoved Emmett's hand off of his leg, then jabbed him viciously in the ribs. Emmett cried out, gripping his side. Edward leaned back with an extremely satisfied smile of victory. Carlisle's eyes squinted in the rearview mirror.

"Edward, what did you do?" he demanded, impatience supplanting his usual calm. It didn't take any special intuition to know that Dad was pissed off.

"Nailed me with his elbow, Pops! I didn't do nuthin' to him!" Emmett whined.

"That's unlikely," muttered Carlisle to himself, then louder, "I was _not_ speaking to you Emmett! Edward? Answer me!"

Edward crossed his arms, losing the smug smile and letting cold fury transform his features. "Defending myself!" he responded sarcastically.

Carlisle drove in silence for a few moments, then pulled off the road into a paved pullout.

With contrived calm he intoned, "Edward, I asked you a question. I expect to be answered. What did you do to Emmett?"

I felt dizzy from the imbalance of Edward's emotions. This was not going well.

"You already know! Why are you asking me?"

_For a smart kid, that boy can act all kinds of stupid…_

Carlisle sighed. He drove the van forward to where the paved area ended and an ungated fire trail wound into the trees. Dropping the tires onto the hard dirt, he pulled into the trees, around the first bend and stopped.

Turning off the engine, he got out without a word and walked to the back to open the cargo area. He rustled around back there for a minute, removed something, then slammed the cargo door so hard, the whole vehicle shook.

The three of us swallowed nervously in unison at the heavy scraping sound as the sliding door on Edward's side opened. Our father stood there, his head down, a thick length of birch in his hand. His sadness and determination were tangible.

Three pairs of eyes were riveted to his face. Somebody was going to get it. _There's a whole lotta ugly comin'..._

I tried hard to manifest peace, patience, understanding towards Dad, but I couldn't effect him. His head was sealed tight, probably a result of blocking Edward's attempts to read his thoughts.

Edward was closest to the door. Carlisle's hand closed around his arm, pulling the boy out of the van. My heart ached for Edward as he tripped over his own feet, "No! Dad!"

"Take your jeans down," he ordered.

My stomach dropped. My brothers were in it deep shit now. _I'm safe, aren't I? Who knows? I might get blamed for not stopping them! After all, I am the oldest!_

"But – it wasn't me! It was Emmett! He won't leave me alone!" Edward contended.

"Now!" ordered Carlisle. Edward jumped, then backed up a step.

"Dad! Listen! Please! Yes, I hit him! He wouldn't stop otherwise! Didn't you see him in the rear view mirror?"

Carlisle grasped a beltloop on Edward's jeans with a finger on his right hand, and with his left, unbuttoned the fly. Edward whimpered, but dared not resist. Snagging another beltloop on the left side, Carlisle jerked the jeans down to his mid-thighs. Edward held on to the door opening for balance.

"Dad," he attempted again, his voice pleading but cautious. "We're in a public place!"

In one motion Carlisle turned the boy to face the inside of the car. Emmett and I cowered, reflecting the terror and confusion on our brother's face. Emmett was breathing hard.

"Bend over the seat." Carlisle pushed Edward forward until his shins touched the bottom edge of the opening, which allowed no further movement forward without bending his knees. Taking a handful of the boy's hair in his left hand, he bent him over the seat he had been occupying just a minute before. Edward held on to the seat with both arms. His head was inches away from his brother's trembling left leg. Edward buried his face in the upholstery, his breathing matching Emmett's.

Carlisle held him by his hips, pushing him forward more securely over the seat. The switch in his right hand brushed the back of the boy's thigh. Edward flinched and cried out into the seat fabric, "It's not fair! Not fair! Please don't do this! Please, Dad! I'm so sorry! I won't disappoint you again!"

Edward's despair and Emmett's fearful anticipation eclipsed my own emotions. I was not the one in trouble this time, but Lord knows I suffered with them. I reached for the handle to the sliding door to my right, thinking to escape the car's volatile atmosphere.

"Jasper!" My father caught my intention and stopped me cold. "Don't you dare! You do not move from that seat without my permission!" I settled back into my seat cringing at what I would now have to witness. _Talk about 'not fair'!_

Carlisle pulled Edward's underwear down to meet his jeans, then both together down to his knees, exposing the boy's pale buttocks and thighs. Edward whimpered softly, and I pitied him as I felt the resignation that now mingled with his fear.

Carlisle's eyes were hard as he stood back, positioning himself sideways to take the first swing with the switch. I closed my eyes.

"Jasper, Emmett, open your eyes!" father commanded. We reluctantly obeyed. Emmett's tears were already making tracks down his face and staining his shirt.

The whistle of a birch switch, once experienced first hand, carves itself permanently into your psyche. A rush of memories and feelings bubbled up inside me, in addition to the emotional storm slamming me inside that car. The most distant memories were from my human youth – my father wielding a switch on me and my brother in the barn. The most recent were from six months ago when I had gone a little crazy, and Carlisle had to bring me back in line. The sound was potent, intimidating, inescapable in the moment. My stomach churned and a chill stabbed me as I heard the rod bite the flesh of Edward's cheeks. He made only a low muffled sound, but his emotional response hit me like a sonic boom.

He let go of the seat with his left arm, tearfully rubbing the invisible stripe on his rear.

"Edward, if you can't keep your hands off yourself, I will have Emmett hold your arms," Carlisle said sternly. There was no response from the boy except to reach up to grasp the seat again. Again Carlisle swung, laying another unseen stripe across the crease under the boy's backside. This time Edward reacted with a strangled shriek, his hand again flying back to soothe the fresh wound.

"Emmett, hold him," our father said in an exasperated tone.

Emmett was terrified, but more afraid to refuse. He reluctantly reached over Edward's back, grasping one arm in each hand, bringing them over the boy's head, clasping them firmly on his own lap. Edward looked up at Emmett then, the tortured look on his face convicting Emmett to the point that big brother turned his head away in my direction so as not to meet his younger brother's eyes. Emmett was breathing irregularly now, trying to maintain control of his emotions – with little success. Emmett knew he was the cause of all this, and that he was next.

Father brought the switch across Edward's cheeks four more times in quick succession, causing him to raise his head from the seat as he gulped breaths. His eyes were open, but he wasn't seeing us. He had already withdrawn into himself, the only escape route possible. I knew his shame stung as painfully as the onslaught upon his flesh.

Carlisle progressed, snapping the birch lower and lower, faster and harder with each stroke. I could tell by the spike in the boy's cries that they were landing on the ultra-sensitive planes of his thighs.

Edward turned his wrists to grip Emmett's forearms, digging his fingers and nails into them with each stroke as if he was focusing the pain into his hands then directly into Emmett's body. Emmett was still weeping silently, but harder now, his shoulders shaking. Emmett never let go, though he must have prayed to be released from his brother's desperate grasp. The guilt was thick around him.

"Do you have anything to say, Edward?" Carlisle said as he paused, the rod held high, poised to descend again.

Edward released a strangled breath, trying to speak, but nothing coherent came out.

"Try again," Carlisle said firmly but patiently.

"S- S- Sorry," he hiccupped. "No more, Dad…no more fighting… sorry… please…"

"OK." Carlisle lowered his arm. "Do I have your word?"

"…word…" was all I heard as Edward's breath again succumbed to soft stuttering.

"Alright son, you can get up."

My diaphragm relaxed slightly. I let go of some of the tension in my arms and legs. The emotions in the vehicle leveled to a bearable state again.

Except for Emmett. That boy was a mess.

Emmett let go of Edward's arms and rubbed his palms on his pant legs. _He must have had sweaty palms when he was human,_ I thought distractedly. That's where he cultivated that unnecessary gesture.

Edward slowly extracted himself from the seat and the car, trying to pull up his jeans as modestly as he could. He stood outside the car, got his balance, and hunching his shoulders, moved away a few feet to adjust his clothes and dry his eyes on his shirt.

Emmett was taut as a bowstring, waiting for Carlisle to call him out.

Carlisle walked over to Edward and put his arms around him. He spoke softly in Edward's ear for a minute - something we couldn't hear - holding him tightly the whole time, rubbing his shoulders. Edward put his head on Carlisle's chest, nodding as he shuddered and hiccupped the remnants of his sobbing.

Carlisle led him back to the van and waited for him to take his seat. Edward eyed the seat hesitantly, then swung himself up and into it. He gritted his teeth as he touched down, his face tensing, his eyes closing, but he remained quiet as he shifted uncomfortably into place.

Emmett looked brittle - as if he was going to shatter into a thousand pieces at one word from Carlisle. But that word never came. Carlisle closed the sliding door, got into the driver's seat and started the engine. Poor Emmett was frozen in shock.

Edward caught me wondering what Emmett was thinking, and said in a low voice. "No, he's not going to 'get it' at home. Dad's done."

Emmett, never subtle, just dropped his jaw wide open in amazement. The relief and unbelief coming out of him nearly knocked me back. His happiness overflowed and he spontaneously reached over to hug Edward from the side.

_Lord!_ _If looks could kill…_Edward leaned away from Emmett's enthusiastic optimism, glaring at him with such outrage that Emmett immediately retreated and kept his hands to himself.

Emmett was quiet for a few miles. Then, without turning to Edward, he whispered just under the sound of the engine, "I'm sorry bro. It should'a been me, not you."

Edward did not respond at first, just continued to stare out the side window in one of his typical pouts. Finally, he relented. I could see it in his body language, sense it in his aura. He whispered back, "I can take it."

Emmett hung his head. He was doing more thinking in those few minutes than he normally did in a week.

"S'OK, Emmett." Edward said softly. "I deserved it…if not for this, for something else…"

The rest of the journey was still, almost peaceful. Carlisle stole little glances in the rearview mirror, but said nothing.

I've never seen Emmett so chastised. Later that day, it dawned on me that Carlisle knew exactly what he was doing when he punished Edward but not Emmett. How many times had Carlisle gotten after Emmett for exactly that behavior – teasing one of us, pushing and pushing to the point of starting a fight? No matter how Carlisle punished him, the lesson had never stuck. This time, the lesson seemed to have finally penetrated his thick skull as he dwelt on the injustice of Edward's suffering. What he perceived as his brother's sacrifice affected him like nothing Carlisle had ever done to him.

Despite his youthful face and body, I was reminded how very old Carlisle really is, how wise those years have made him, how worthy he is of my respect. I again was reminded never to underestimate him.


	2. Author's Note

**Author's PostScript to ****Reverse Psychology**

I decided to post this PostScript, due to several Reviews and Private Messages I received.

I did not include this explanation/exposition in the one-shot itself, because I wanted the reader to come to her own conclusion instead of being told what to think by the author. I even toyed with the idea of NOT having Jasper sum it all up, but decided that would have left the reader too baffled. Finally, I figured it would be a very natural thing for Jasper to try to make sense of what he had witnessed, and a good place to wind up this slice of Cullen life.

I am delighted to see my little story has not only outraged a few readers, but caused them to think a bit beyond the story, to analyze their own experiences and reactions as they search for reason in what seems so desperately unfair to Edward and so out of character for Carlisle. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!

I do have a specific reasoning for why Carlisle did what he did in this one-shot, beyond the lesson to Emmett. It is a lesson to Edward as well as Emmett.

My Carlisle is always questioning Edward's childish reactions and decisions in favor of more mature ones. Edward is his "heir" - as much as that would make sense in a vampiric universe. Though Edward is not the strongest physically (Emmett) or the most street-wise/battle-wise (Jasper), he is, in many important ways, made in his father's image: the draw towards medicine, the self-sacrificing tendencies, the deep emotions (both negative and positive), the commitment to family, the commitment to keeping some remnant of humanity in themselves, which serves as a necessary bridge with the human world.

In my story Trespass, Carlisle comments that some people purposely use Edward's defensiveness against him:

"_What I'm saying is that Jacob and Emmett have found a very effective way to tease you. They know you eavesdrop on their thoughts, they don't like it, and so they use your talent against you! Why do you allow it? You know what you should do, but you don't do it. Isn't that right, Edward?"_

"_Yes sir." I sighed. "I should not purposely listen to their thoughts without permission, and if I happen to hear them accidentally, tune them out. It's hard to tune out and it's hard to forget when you already know what filth is going on in their heads, Dad."_

"_Yes, it's hard, but it's a technique, a defense, you must acquire, or your special talent for reading minds becomes your torment, a weapon used against you, a weakness instead of an advantage."_

Emmett's competitive pattern is to strike out (mentally and physically) to get Edward to over-react, lose control, so that Emmett "wins". Emmett knows "perfect" Edward will always respond badly, which makes the whole process just irresistible. Edward needs to learn to deal with Emmett's immaturity in a mature manner. Carlisle believes Edward IS capable of maturing in this respect, and more likely to do so than Emmett is to change his silly ways. Also, Edward learning to deal with his own family members' foibles is good practice for dealing with the outside world, both vampiric and human.

What Carlisle is whispering to Edward after the whipping in Reverse Psychology is just a short reminder of a lesson that is ongoing. I imagine Carlisle is reminding him he could have handled the situation differently from the moment it started back in Seattle. I imagine Edward wishing he could just sit in the front seat. I imagine Carlisle saying that avoiding the conflict with Emmett would not help Edward in future interactions with Emmett. I imagine Carlisle re-stating that he expects more of Edward than of Emmett. Carlisle would explain he chose to punish Edward because Edward should have known better than to let Emmett bait him. I can imagine Carlisle reasoning with Edward that it will be more effective NOT to punish Emmett at this point, that this ploy will end up working a deeper lesson in Emmett. I can imagine Edward understanding and accepting this reasoning, this lesson. Edward is in a privileged position among the "children", but with great[er] power, comes great[er] responsibility, Spiderman…

In regards to how the switch could already be there in the back of the car, my weak explanation is that this story is the combination of two real events, and in the actual event, a switch was already in the back of the car, it was a Mom, not a Dad, and I assume this must have happened a lot for her to be so prepared. Two readers have told me they have also experienced that, so I feel comfortable it lies within the boundaries of believability.

It was fun writing from Jasper's POV because his take on the situation is so emotion based. Also, I have been in Jasper's proverbial "seat," and I know what it feels like.

As so many discipline fic writers have already stated, I do not condone spanking or any kind of corporal punishment, of children, of teenagers or of adults – I do not feel fear teaches as well as reasoning. Think about it, when you remove the fear of punishment, what is left to motivate the desired behavior? Reasoning creates the seed of motivation within the subject. I was raised with CP, and I feel my parents and schools were wrong to use it.

If you are an adult and "discipline" your particular outlet, and you're not hurting anyone who isn't consenting…then it's not punishment, is it?

Thanks for playing!


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